Those of us who are terrible procrastinators (e.g. me) and who nonetheless seem to at least kind of function have a secret: we become total productive machines at the last minute. That is to say, I have written 25 pages worth of term papers in the past 36 hours or so, which makes the prospect of having to write about 20 more in the next 40ish
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Okay, that's a lie. Actually, I said that about my summer class (which starts on the 25th), as well as about this coming semester. I know it's not going to happen. I'm going to squeeze out no more than 30 hours of maniacal work in exchange for 25 credit-hours. It's a good trade in my book.
I think it's genetic. (That absolves me of all responsibility, right?)
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(Seriously, though, the most encouraging thing I've heard all year may have been when I overheard a prof of mine saying to a colleague, "I haven't lost sleep over a deadline since 1996." That right there sounds like a never-again moment that actually stuck - and if it wasn't, if I'm misinterpreting the conversation, I don't want to know. I keep picturing myself ten years from now saying, maybe a little self-righteously, "Fuck that. I haven't lost sleep over a deadline since 2010." It's a nice thought.)
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